She thought of the way Luke had whispered her name. He had never called her that before. It was always “Sterling” or occasionally “Emmeline,” never “Em,” as if he could barely speak.
The scrape of his voice played in her ears, over and over.
Charles picked off another knight from the board, then paused before making his next move. “Is everything alright?” he asked, looking at her carefully.
Emmeline jolted. “Of course,” she replied automatically, forcing a smile.
Charles furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Everything okay with work?”
Her father looked down at the chessboard as she blinked stupidly. When she followed his gaze, her mouth jutted open. They had hardly been playing for ten minutes and she had already lost half of her pieces.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emmeline gave her father a tight smile. “Just a bit tired, that’s all,” she replied.
“Why don’t you go lie down for a bit?” Charles asked. With a nod, she stood, exiting her father’s office. The house was quiet—much too quiet. Luke’s voice filled her mind, the way he had apologized for not answering her question.
“If you ask me again, then I promise I’ll answer.”
She thought she had him all figured out, but he kept surprising her, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Her pulse raced, making her feel unsteady.
Clenching her jaw, she went to the kitchen, hoping some water would help. As she went to the sink, she saw it was filled with dirty dishes. Emmeline frowned, then immediately rolled up her sleeves.
She pulled open the dishwasher, her frown deepening as she saw that it hadn’t been unloaded. “These men cannot do anything, I swear,” she muttered to herself, pulling out the rack.
Since it was Sunday, the cleaning lady hadn’t come, and Emmeline set about unloading the dishwasher, then loading it, grateful for the distraction, even if it was irritating how useless the men of her family could be.
After the sink was emptied, she opened the fridge to find random containers of leftovers.
“Of course there’s nothing proper to eat,” she muttered, snapping the fridge door closed. She yanked the freezer open, pulling out meat to defrost.
As she waited for that, she wiped the counters, and then, when she was finished with that, she spotted crumbs all over the floor.
“Ugh!” Emmeline grabbed the vacuum, the hum of the machine filling her ears as she pushed it back and forth. Her arms were burning by the time she was finished, but once she was done vacuuming, she grabbed the mop.
Just as she got started on the tiles in the kitchen, she heard her brothers entering through the front door. Emmeline glanced up and saw Naveed entering the kitchen with a bag.
Once he saw her expression, her youngest brother froze.
“Uh, hey,” he said, giving her his best boyish smile. Emmeline paused her mopping to cut her youngest brother a glare. Despite being twenty-three, he gulped, rightfully afraid.
“The cleaning lady was just here yesterday and this place is already such a mess,” Emmeline scolded. “It really isn’t difficult to put your plate and glass in the dishwasher after you’ve eaten. And if you drop crumbs on the floor, just pick them up!”
Her brother looked around, confused. “It’s not such a mess,” he said.
She huffed. “Because I already cleaned up!”
“You didn’t have to,” he said, going around her to set the bag he was carrying on the counter.
“Of course I did!” she groaned, continuing mopping. Naveed headed for the exit, then paused to look at her curiously. He pushed a hand through his long hair.
“Why are you...?” Naveed asked, trailing off.
“Why am I what?” Emmeline replied. “Mopping? Because the floor is dirty.”
“No, you’re...” He trailed off again, but this time gestured to her.
“What?” she asked, impatient.
“You’re aggressively cleaning,” he said.
